Unstoppable ink
by shortpeopleproblems
Summary: Zaria is a rebel. Her robot says she isn't allowed to get a tattoo, but of course, she does, anyway. What could the consequences be? Teen because I rate all my books T :)


We live in a world where people can fly. We can hear music in our heads, dive from clouds to the ground without killing ourselves, and we can change the color of our skin, but yet I'm not allowed to get a huge winged tattoo on my back like humans used to. But our generation, 4014, are very little human and mostly machine. Yet the thin layer of skin around my metal frame, MY thin layer of skin, is not allowed to be tattooed. And who says I can't? Simple. My stupid robot.

"Not authorized, Zaria."

"WHY NOT?!" I shriek at it.

"Not authorized, Zaria." It repeats again in the monotone voice.

"You suck." I mutter.

"Have a nice day, Zaria." It chirps as I stalk away trying to blow off some steam. I take the elevator in my apartment building to the bottom floor and walk out to street level past the club, past the oil shop, and down to the piercing and tattoo parlor. I didn't care what my robot said, I was going to get a tattoo if it was the last thing I did.

I walked into the store, looked the bored teenager with orange and purple flame hair in the eye and said "I want a tattoo." He didn't even ask for my credentials or permission slip. He perked up a tiny bit and relayed the usual spiel to me. "Tattoos are permanent and can never be taken off. Make sure that you take this into consideration before we begin the inking process. Thank you for listening, now please pick a tattoo from the wall of verified tattoos and explain directly and exactly where you want it."

I smirked at him and said softly "I don't want a legal one." Suddenly his head snapped to attention and he grinned, revealing two huge canines on either front side of his mouth. He bored attendant look was completely gone now. "Please come with me." He said "To the special room."

The inker ushered me into a back where the walls were black with marks and all that was in it were posters with illegal ideas for tattoos and a machine for sharpening the inker's prized possessions: his fangs. "So what can I get you today?" he raised his lips again in an attempted motion of friendliness, but just ended up revealing the deadly weapons. I took a breath and told him "I want wings on my back, beginning along my spine and going out, as if I had actual wings."

"What color?" He raised a tool to his mouth and began sharpening his gruesome incisors.

Now it was my turn to smile. "Night black."

"Good choice." He replied. "Now lay down and take that." He put a pill on the side table.

"What is that?" I asked skeptically.

"Pain medication." He kept on working.

"Why?" I was nervous now.

He finally looked up from what he was doing and said grimly "Cuz you're going to need it.

My eyes widened, and before I knew what I was doing, I had downed the pill in one slug.

"Now lay down and try to relax." He suggested. I laid down and un-tensed my shoulders. I felt him gently tug up the back of my shirt so he could see what he had to work with. I had to fight the urge to pull my shirt back down and run out as fast as I could. I clenched my fists and jaw, forcing myself to stay put. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him bring the ink jar up to his lips. I shut my eyes tight and even though I've never been a religious person, I prayed. I prayed to god to keep me safe. I prayed to my robot, hoping it wouldn't whip me when it found out. And I prayed for myself, hoping this was the right decision.

He lowered himself to his knees to that his over-6-foot figure could reach me. He positioned his hands on my sides, and dug in. The pain, even with the medication, was excruciating. I swear I must have passed out and come around multiple times. I was stuck here, in agonizing pain, counting down the minutes until he finished his brutal job.

I kept on tallying the minutes. After 2 hours and 21 minutes of the most awful pain ever, my tattoo was done. The stinging, burning, make-you-want-to-throw-up sensation ended. I felt him back away, and heard him open a drawer. "This will keep it from getting infected." He said before rubbing on a cool soothing salve. Then he bandaged my shoulders and lifted me to my feet.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

I felt different. Darker, more dangerous. More…in control.

"Better." I told him.

"Do you want to see it?" His voice had an edge of excitement to it.

"Heck yeah!" He led me to a mirror and I spun around and lifted up my t-shirt. On my back was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Two very real looking jet black wings were tattooed to my back. There were thousands of feathers across them that looked so existent that I had to reach out a hand to my back and touch them to make sure that they were really ink. All I could say was "they're perfect."

He smiled, but this time, the razor sharp incisors didn't look dangerous and cruel. It looked like a real, kindly, understanding smile. I followed him up to the front where he rung me up for the inking. "That'll be 37 zots because of all the detail work I did."

"Fine by me, they're well worth it!" I handed him the money.

"You'll be back soon for more." He promised me as I walked out. I didn't know what to say to that, so I just nodded. It still stung as I walked down the street. A sudden feeling of recklessness came over me, and I ran up to a recycler bin and kicked the old electronic piece of junk over. I smiled and laughed. I felt great. No, more than great. I felt…full. Like there has been a missing piece of me my whole life that's now happy. I had taken my life into my own hands rather than letting my robot decide every move I make, and it feels incredible.

I was new, more improved, I was…I was…unstoppable. The word popped into my brain and I knew that it was right. Nothing could stop me now. I was going to go home and kill my robot. Wait, what?! Where'd that thought come from? Of course I wasn't going to kill my robot. I loved it most of the time. Funny, I didn't feel unstoppable anymore. Those thoughts didn't feel like mine, they felt like someone else's.

I shook off the weird feelings and began walking home. I rubbed the back of my neck, just brushing the top of the new bandage with my thumb. Something spurred to make me walk faster. Suddenly I felt rebellious and stoppable again. I turned around and did two back hand springs in a row and on the third, I lashed out and kicked down a lamp pole. I landed on my feet, breathing hard. I touched my face. It was burning under my fingers. I sat down hard and just breathed.

I'm not an acrobat. I'm not even flexible! Was that really me that just did that? I turned around to look at the lamp pole. There it lay, shattered into pieces and sputtering out on the ground, an awful reminder of what had just happened. I stayed there curled in a heap for endless minutes. When the last of the strange effects faded, I slowly pulled myself up onto my hands and knees and crawled towards home.

Progress was slow, but after two full blocks of no weird thoughts or acrobatic tricks, I tested the stability of my feet. My balance was slightly off, but other than that, nothing happened. I took each step gingerly, hoping to not set it off again. When I finally reached the elevator of my flat, I almost sighed in relief, but I wasn't fully home yet. I got out of the elevator and had to resist the urge to run towards home.

I reached my door, unlocked it and slipped into my dark home. I shut the door and slide down it to the floor. I placed my head in my hands and finally let out the breath I'd held the whole way home. I let myself think. I only had one question. What was wrong with me?

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What's going to happen!? :) I know, but you dont. as always, ENJOY! -8Tickles P.S. I LOVE COMMENTS GUYS SO PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK SO I CAN BETTER MY WRITING. GOT AN IDEA FOR NEXT CHAPTER? JUST PM ME, I MIGHT USE YOU SUGGESTION! THANK YOU SO MUCH!


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